


Sherlock Holmes and the Fabulous Bee Birthday

by FinAmour



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aliens, Bees in space, Crack, Established Relationship, Fluff, Glitter, Intergalactic sex, John is amazing at gift giving, M/M, Seriously this is pure crack, Sherlock’s Birthday, Surprise but not a surprise party, bee fields, crackfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 05:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19661089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinAmour/pseuds/FinAmour
Summary: “That makes complete sense!” Sherlock says. “Nothing about this confuses me or is unrealistic!”***One warm summer night, perhaps far past their bedtimes, FinAmour and unicornpoe began a story that was intended to be somewhat serious, but somehow, fell far down into a bottomless pit. We hope you find it as ridiculous and funny as we did.





	Sherlock Holmes and the Fabulous Bee Birthday

It’s been a little over eight months since he and Sherlock had kissed. A little over six months since they became official. And it’s been a little under a year since the last time Sherlock had had a birthday. This, however, will be the first year that Sherlock has a birthday as John’s boyfriend, and John is going to make sure it’s the best fucking birthday he’s ever had in all his 36 years. 

“You are going to have the most fabulous birthday ever this year, love,” John says against Sherlock’s chest in the morning as he hugs him before breakfast.

“Hm,” Sherlock says. He’s standing in the middle of the kitchen as John hugs him, holding a book about beekeeping with one hand above John’s head as he tries to simultaneously read and hold onto his boyfriend at the same time. “Well, I’ve already had the most fabulous six months of my life,” he says with perfect honesty. “So I’m not sure you’ll be able to top that.”

“Every day gets better and better, isn’t that the idea? Besides. If everything can be as great as it is with us doing all of our day-to-day things, imagine how good it could be with cake and gaudy decorations.”

Sherlock looks away from his book to glance down at John, who’s smiling up at him softly. His hair is messy with sleep, his cheeks slightly pink, his eyes slightly glassy. Impulsively, Sherlock darts down and places a chaste kiss on the tip of John’s nose. Just because he  _ can _ now.

John hums a little bit at the feeling of Sherlock’s lips on his skin. He smiles brightly, and lets his eyes close for just a second. “Well, you haven’t said anything in disagreement, which is rare, so I think I’m going to go ahead and put the fabulous birthday party planning in effect.”

He looks at Sherlock, whose eyes are sharp and piercing even in a sleepy haze, and he runs his hand through his dark curls. “You’re going to love it.”

“You’re doing it,” Sherlock says. He smiles, and doesn’t even mind that he looks an absolute fool as he does it. “So yes. I probably will.”

***

John isn’t planning a party at all, of course. But his  _ not planning  _ is actually part of the  _ plan. _ It’s like a surprise birthday party of sorts, only it’s a surprise  _ not a birthday party _ . 

He’s going to trick Sherlock into thinking he’s got a huge birthday bash planned, but in reality, he’s going to take him to an apiary in the country to spend the entire day doing what he loves.

And if Sherlock is doing what he loves, John will love it too.

He walks into the flat with a bag from the grocery, spilling out a box of party invitations onto the table for Sherlock to “accidentally find” later.

***

Sherlock doesn’t like birthday parties.

As a child, they had consisted of rooms full of tightly-smiling, floral-scented adults who wanted to pinch his cheeks and ruffle his hair and give him things like socks and toy trains as presents and then promptly forget he existed. As an adult, they hadn’t taken place at all.

But something tells him that a John-thrown birthday party might just be bearable. Might be more than bearable; might be  _ enjoyable. _ Most John-things are enjoyable.

***

John has spent the last few days leaving hints of an impending birthday party around the flat. Business cards for the bakers, signs and other decorations, wrapping paper and unopened bottles of champagne.

Sherlock has never liked birthday parties; he’s mentioned it many times before. But each time John mentions this fake party, Sherlock just smiles at him as though he’s doing the nicest thing in the world. Well, he supposes, he doesn’t know the last time Sherlock had anyone plan a party for him, but that’s why he’s got John. To help him experience things he’s never experienced before.

The day before Sherlock’s birthday, John comes home with a giant cake that has the words “Happy Birthday, Sherlock. Let me take you away” on it. 

Sherlock stares at it. “Where,” he says, then thinks he should probably sound a bit more grateful, and repeats the question in a kinder tone. “That is to say, where? And also, you wrote all that on a cake? And also, thank you, I’m pretty sure, because I doubt that you would take me away somewhere that I wouldn’t enjoy.”

John is staring at him in a way that says  _ good lord this man really doesn’t know anything about functioning in the real world, _ but it’s fond enough that Sherlock isn’t offended at all. Instead he says, “Where are the balloons?”

“I promise what you’re going to see, you’ll love much more than balloons.” John leans in and kisses Sherlock softly on the lips. “Get into the car I rented. It’s parked outside.”

“Is there a murder in the car?” Sherlock asks eagerly as John herds him towards the door, grabbing both of their coats off of the rack as they pass by. “Is there a murder _ er _ in the car? Is Anderson’s dead body in the car?” John rests a hand lightly against Sherlocks’ waist and together they clatter down the steps. “John, I’m dying of suspense here, and I’m holding off deducing because I know how much you enjoy surprising me.”

“You’ll just have to come out to the car to find out the answer to all of those questions,” John says, pressing his hand into Sherlock’s back.

***

THREE HOURS LATER, they are in a bee field.

SURPRISEEEE! John says, taking Sherlock’s blindfold off, and guess what? There are thousands of bees in the field and they’re all wearing birthday hats and they all sing the happy birthday song to Sherlock. 

Sherlock gasps. He had no idea that bees had tiny human faces! None of his beekeeping books had ever thought to mention that one very important fact. He waits for the chorus of their tiny, buzzy voices to fade away and then turns to John, his hands clasped nearly under his chin.

“ _ John _ ,” he breathes. “ _ We must have all of them.  _ And they must  _ live with us _ . In our  _ flat. _ They will be our  _ children.” _

“Hm,” John muses, staring at Sherlock’s arse for a few moments. “I’ve always considered adoption, you know. And I think the best solution for us is to raise an entire household of tiny, singing bees with human faces. God, I can’t believe you have wanted the same. All this time. What were we thinking, Sherlock? We’ve been such idiots.”

The bees all stand there, blankly staring at Sherlock and John with their tiny, tiny, human eyes and birthday hats. “Bzzzzzz,” one of them silently whispers to another.

“I think that bee just called you Dad,” John says, his eyes growing glassy.

“John,” Sherlock says, grasping John around the shoulders. “I must have you right now, in the field of our very tiny bee children. Take your clothing off.”

Sherlock grabs one of his tiny bee children in order to enunciate his point, and the bee stings him right on the finger. “DAAAMMMNNNN YOUUUkdsakfljU,” Sherlock hisses. “Doctor, I’ve been hurt. This tiny former bee child I once loved has hurt me. How can I heal the pain?”

“Well,” John says. “Perhaps you should lie down. I’m going to need you to apologise to Matilda, the tiny bee child that you nearly smashed, first, though, Sherlock. It wasn’t a very polite thing to do, you know.”

Sherlock sighs deeply, and gives Matilda a very belligerent look. She sticks her tiny bee tongue out at him. “I  _ apologize _ ,” he says. “I didn’t mean to—oh no!”

Because now, Matilda has stopped hovering. In fact, she has stopped moving at all, and now she’s falling like a stone to land on the grass.

“Matilda!” John yells, falling to his knees beside her. He examines her for a moment, then looks up at Sherlock with a look of heartbreak behind his blue eyes. “Sherlock,” he whispers. “Our first tiny bee child… is dead!”

With a wail, Sherlock collapses in the grass next to John and the insect formerly known as Matilda. He stares up at the sky, and wishes that he, too, were dead. “John,” he moans. “Please don’t forget to buy the milk.” And then, he, himself, rolls over, and collapses onto the ground.

“SHERLOCK!” John yells dramatically and loudly in a very bro way. “Nnnnnnnnooooooooooo!”

“Bzzz,” one of the bees says to John.

“Oh,” John says, as he wipe the tears from his face. He looks over at Sherlock and shakes him by the shoulders, and Sherlock suddenly bolts upwards. “BOO!” he says. “Tricked you!”

“HOW DARE YOU,” John says. “One time of pretending to be dead was already too MUCH. This was not funny in the slightest. I’m going to cancel our bee adoption.”

Sherlock squints his eyes at John, and the bees start eating popcorn from large buckets that came from nowhere, as they watch the fight develop.

“No, John,” Sherlock urges. “I promise I won’t do it again. Please forgive me.”

“In less than 2 minutes, you killed our daughter and faked your own death,” John mutters through clenched teeth. “I just don’t think it’s something that can be forgiven.”

“John,  _ John,”  _ Sherlock wails. “I’m sorry! This was supposed to be a good birthday, and it’s turned out to be the worst EVER!”

Suddenly, a spaceship hovers above them, and a ray of light shines down from the extraterrestrial vehicle. Within the beam of light is a tiny golden box.

“Surprise!” John says with a smile. “I actually wanted to take you away to the Realm of Alien Bees, in space. You’ve never heard of it because you deleted the solar system, but it’s a wonderful place, Sherlock.”

“Oh, John!” Sherlock exclaims. Sitting up, he throws his arms around John’s neck and drapes himself across his smaller body. “But what’s in the box?”

“In the box is enough tiny beds for our tiny bee children so that they can come with us and have beds of their own to sleep in!” John says, rubbing Sherlock’s back soothingly.

“That makes complete sense!” Sherlock says. “Nothing about this confuses me or is unrealistic!”

“BZZZZZ,” the tiny bee children exclaim with enthusiasm. They seem to have forgotten about their fallen sibling, but that kinda makes sense, because Matilda was always a bitch, anyway. In unison, the throw down their popcorn on her corpse and fly up the golden beam of light in a vibrating cloud.

“Come on, love,” John says, standing and offering Sherlock a hand. Sherlock takes it with a brilliant smile, and thinks that he’s the luckiest man in England. Scratch that; the luckiest man in the  _ world. _

“Coming, John,” he says softly, letting John pull him to his feet. John grabs his other hand and they stand there, a circle of JohnandSherlockSherlockandJohn, as the beam of light strikes them, and lifts them gently towards the Realm of Alien Bees.

Suddenly, from below, Matilda’s corpse disintegrates into purple glitter dust. And that’s honestly a really awesome way to go. Her dads would have been proud. Even though one of them killed her.

And John thinks to himself, as they arrive on the spaceship, that this is absolutely the life he’d always wanted: his beautiful, genius, bee-murdering lover who knows how to make him happier than anyone or any bee in the entire galaxy. And their thousands of bee children, and their thousands of microscopic beds. And also, the jumpers in space are probably pretty cool.

Sherlock thinks to himself, that this is absolutely the best birthday he’s ever had, even better than the birthday party where Mycroft accidentally jumped off of the trampoline and broke his nose.

And they hadn’t even had cake.

Sherlock looks over at John, and he feels extremely, extremely, extremely gay (he wonders if gay is like gravity, and the levels readjust once you’re in space)... either way, he’s in love with John, and he wants to say one thing:

“John,” Sherlock breathes, secretly hoping deep in his soul that if unicornpoe is left to finish this sentence, she won’t make it 6 pages long: “I want to tell you that in any time, in any universe, in any galaxy, I would want you. It would always be you. BZZ.”

“And I you, Sherlock,” John says.

And then their bee children raise their buzzy voices in joyful song, and they fly off and away and have lots of intergalactic sex.  
  
  



End file.
